


Never Let Me Go

by i_will_always_find_you



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-11 04:11:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8953225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_will_always_find_you/pseuds/i_will_always_find_you
Summary: Once Feyre had found her mate and her family, found the person she was supposed to spend eternity with, she was filled with immense joy. But that was all so long ago. Before The Great War. Before she had to give it all up.Set in the future after the destruction of the Cauldron where Feyre loses her immortality.





	1. Prologue

_**Prologue** _

She hadn’t seen him since the war with the King of Hybern had ended. And if she was being truthful with herself, it was because she was hiding. She wasn’t ready to face him, wasn’t ready to talk to him, to accept what had happened to her - not after her sacrifice.

In just a few short years, her world had been completely turned upside down. From the moment she had killed Andre in the woods, everything changed. And when Amarantha snapped her neck Under the Mountain and she woke up as a High Fae, she promised herself that she would learn to adjust to her immortality. It had taken time, and an internal battle with unimaginable suffering, before she willingly accepted her fate. And once she learned what Rhysand was to her, once she had found her mate and her family, found the person she was supposed to spend eternity with, she was filled with immense joy.

But that was all so long ago. Before The Great War. Before she had to give it all up.


	2. Chapter 1

“Where is she?” Rhys demanded, pacing back and forth in his old townhouse in Valaris. Mor was seated at the kitchen table, trying to keep him calm for the third straight day. Empty coffee mugs were scattered around the room, along with dirty dishes and a few splotches of water along the counters. While it would take a tenth of a second’s worth of magic to clean up the mess, Rhys couldn’t be bothered. And Mor, well Mor didn’t want to do anything that may upset her cousin any further.

“I’ve told you, Rhys, she’s sorting through some stuff.” Mor looked down at her hands when she spoke, unable to make eye contact. She knew it was killing him. It was killing her, too.

“It doesn’t make any sense. None of it makes any sense. I can’t feel her like I did before. WHAT HAPPENED TO HER?”

He’d been more or less repeating the same thing over and over again since the Cauldron had been destroyed three days previously. He knew Feyre was responsible, they all knew it, but no one knew how she had managed to do it. Except for Mor.

Mor had been the one to find her, buried in the rubble. Rhys had been off in the South, defending the Southern Courts and the people there. Feyre had been secretly scouting the location of the Cauldron for the better part of a year. And Mor was the only one who knew.

She’d only seen Feyre a handful of times since she had willingly put herself in the arms of the Spring Court. What had happened to her while she was there was a story for another day, and Mor never had enough time to glean any real details about the going-ons. Feyre and Mor met once in a month in the forests on the borders of the Spring Court. Mor never asked how Feyre was able to sneak away unnoticed, but she had a feeling that Lucien had something to do it.

It was during one of their last meetings that Mor began to panic that Feyre was trying to do too much on her own. Mor had shown up to their meeting spot to find Feyre sitting underneath a tree, fragile arms wrapped around her knees and hugging them to her chest. Her face was covered in dirt, evidence of things Mor was too afraid to ask. A single tear made a track down the dirt on her cheek.

“Feyre?” She asked gently.

Feyre didn’t respond right away, the silence pressing in on both of them. A cricket chirped nearby, and she lifted her head in the direction of the sound. “I figured out how to destroy it.”

Mor’s immediate reaction was that they should be celebrating. She wanted to jump up and down and clap and scream. But then she looked at Feyre and her happiness faltered. Something about the way she said it made it seem like this was not the good news it sounded like.

“Okay. This should be good news. But you’re sitting on the ground covered in dirt and something tells me that it isn’t. Good news, I mean,” Mor said.

“I have to do it. I have to be the one to destroy it.”

“Why? Why do you insist on doing everything by yourself? Rhys would –”

“I know what Rhys would say,” Feyre interrupted, standing up and trying to wipe some of the dirt off. Instead, she smudged it further, leaving a long dark trail down her left cheek.

“I don’t understand,” Mor said, “What’s been the point of you and me meeting in secret? What have you been telling Rhys?”

“The truth. Well, most of it.”

“You can’t lie to him,” Mor said, a growl erupting. She didn’t mean for it to happen, but when it came to her cousin, she couldn’t help but defend him. She loved him something fierce.

But this was all weeks ago. Mor kept replaying the conversation she’d had with Feyre. Why hadn’t she asked for more details? Why hadn’t she insisted that Feyre tell her the plan? When Mor received word that the cauldron was destroyed and the King of Hybern defeated once and for all, she’d raced off to the location where everyone was saying the final battle occurred. And that was where she found Feyre, buried in the rubble and barely alive. Once she’d dug her out and healed her more severe wounds, she immediately got the feeling that something was wrong. Very wrong.

Mor had gently brushed a hair away from Feyre’s face, willing her to wake up, not only for her, not only because she was her High Lady, but for Rhys. And when she moved the hair from her face, it was when she noticed her ears.

Rhys continued to pace, continued to talk to himself, and continued to glare at Mor every few steps. “She’s my mate, god damn it. Tell me where she is.”

“As I’ve now told you a million times, she’s not hurt, she’s just…Rhys, she needs to be alone. To grieve. She lost so many of her friends, so many of her kind…”

“We all lost people, Mor,” he said, none too gently.

“She lost more than any of us.” She sighed. She wasn’t going to be able to keep it from him much longer, even though she had promised Feyre she wouldn’t tell him. “Rhys -”

And that was when he felt it. The tug on the bond. It was faint, not nearly as strong as it had been, but it was there. Before Mor could say another word, he was gone.

***

“I didn’t think to look here,” Rhys began, “because I figured it would be too obvious.”

Feyre, seated at the kitchen table, gave him a small smile. Something was off about her, but he couldn’t place it. She wore long sleeves, her hands tucked underneath her legs.

He glanced around the cabin and was pleased to find all of the walls still covered in paint, covered in her drawings. The eyes of his friends, his family, glared down from the wall. He couldn’t help but think about that night, which felt like so long ago, when she had offered him food and accepted the bond.

“You did it,” he said, a true, bright, genuine smile spreading across his face as he looked at her. “And I am so very proud of you, High Lady of the Night Court.” She’d been staring at him, watching his every move up until he uttered those words. She looked down at her hands, which she now folded in front of her and placed on her lap. She looked awkward. Out of place.

She was fidgeting. And Feyre, his beautiful Feyre, never fidgeted. Even when she was nervous. Even when she was bone-tired. “Feyre -” Rhys began, taking a step towards his mate. He’d barely seen her over the course of the last year and he ached to touch her. But she stood up from the chair where she sat, and took two clumsy steps backward. She shook her head at him. “Not yet,” she said gently.

“Not yet?” He ignored her request, stepping towards her again. She took another step back, this time nervously tucking her long hair behind her ears. And that was when he noticed. Her ears. No longer pointed. Human. Her ears were human. And it clicked. So was she.

_Feyre._

It was a plea. A heartbreaking plea for her to hear him. Silence.

“I can hear you,” she said gently, “but you can’t hear me.”

“What did you do, Feyre?”

“I had to do it. I had to. It was the only way to destroy the cauldron. I needed magic - magic from all of the High Lords. But there was no way for me to bring you all together -”

“I WOULD HAVE MADE IT HAPPEN.”

“There was no time, Rhys. And so I had to do it - I had to give it all back.”

“Feyre.” He whispered her name so gently, like a blessing and a curse, at the same time.

The tears streamed down her cheeks. “It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change what you mean to me. You’re still the love of my life. You’re still my mate. I may be human again, but how I feel about you and us, that doesn’t change. That never changes.”

“We were supposed to spend eternity together. Forever. And now you’re telling me, you’re telling me that instead of _centuries_ with you, I have merely _decades_? Just a few fucking decades before you grow old and leave me?”

“I was never supposed to live forever,” she whispered, raising her eyes to meet his. “I was never supposed to have all of this. And that was why it had to be me to destroy the cauldron. I had to right the balance. I had to do it.”

“I need fresh air,” he muttered before storming out the front door. Night and darkness were pouring out of him as he sat down in the snow. He didn’t care that it was cold and wet. He didn’t care about anything at all.

He’d never forgive her. That was his first thought. How could he ever forgive her for giving up their future? But the longer he sat there, the more he realized he would have done it, too. She hadn’t been thinking about him when she gave up her immortality, she’d been thinking about the lives she would save, the war that would end. After so much had been lost already. The longer he sat there, the more he felt like an asshole. He had a million questions and he needed to hear the whole story. But he wasn’t ready to face her. Not yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry. Kind of. I know it doesn’t seem like a happy story, and when I first came up with the idea, my first thought was “Really, Jess? You can’t come up with something slightly less depressing?” But one thing I love about these characters is how dark they are and how they will do literally anything for the people that they love. I promise the pain will be worth it. There’s more chapters to come (obviously) but I’ve been in a kind of dark and gloomy place lately and so it seemed fitting that I post it. Reviews mean everything to me.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shout out (and a million hugs) to my wonderful beta Jo for taking this mess of a chapter and turning it into something worth reading.

_ 6 months before _

Feyre glanced at the clock on the wall, the minutes ticking away. Tamlin was seated across the long dining room table, his fork moving aimlessly through the food on the plate front of him. Neither he nor Feyre had eaten much. The silence stretched thick before them, like it did for every meal since she had come back to the Spring Court.

 “Do you - ”

 “I think - ”

They both began at the same time. Tamlin dropped his fork, pushing the plate away and folding his hands in front of him on the table. “You go first, Feyre.” She tried not to cringe as he said her name.

“I was going to say that I think I needed to take a ride through the grounds, to clear my head.” She tried not to glance at the clock, but it was hard knowing she was already late.

He nodded. “Okay. Take Lucien with you.”

If this had happened a year ago, Tamlin would never have let her out of his sight, let alone the house, without him. But Feyre, had spent _months_ faking her love for Tamlin: kisses here and there, gentle prodding, loving murmurs and touches. All in an effort to make him think she was his. To get him to trust her.

Plus, having Lucien on her side had its advantages.

She stood up from the table as gracefully as she could, and walked towards Tamlin. She planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, swallowing her disgust. She had a part to play, and that, unfortunately, required her to pretend to be in love with him.

Lucien was waiting for her by the back door, leaning against the archway, picking his nails with what appeared to be a piece of bone.

“Well, that’s gross,” Feyre said to him, by way of greeting.

“You’re late,” Lucien murmured, throwing the bone on the ground. They’d arranged this meeting with Mor two weeks ago and Lucien had subsequently planned everything around it. A distraction on the northern edge of the Spring Court would keep the guards on the grounds briefly occupied, but they didn’t have time to make mistakes or run late. Lucien, whose main concern was to be reunited with Elain, had been a surprisingly easy ally to win over. He’d seen right through her lies to Tamlin, and she’d been forced to tell him the truth when he’d spotted her sending one of the disappearing letters at the end of her first week there.

“And who exactly are you trying to communicate with, Feyre? Your Night Court, perhaps?” Lucien had quietly snuck into the room while Feyre was too wrapped up in making the letter vanish to notice him. It was a costly mistake.

She had two choices. Tell him the truth and hope he understood, or lie to him and have him continue to be suspicious of her. She took a chance and told him the whole story, from the beginning. He paced the room while she told him of painting stars on dressers, of Starfall and a Court of Dreams. She told him how Rhys had known nearly the entire time that they were mates and that when she found out she was angry, but also relieved. She told him how she offered him soup and how he offered her a life. When Feyre was finished with the story, Lucien stopped pacing and turned to face her.

“What do you need me to do?” He said. Relief flooded Feyre. He’d understood. Because the way she felt about Rhys was how he felt about Elain.

“You’re going to help me. We’re going to gain favor with the other courts and infiltrate them, we’re going to convince Tamlin that I still love him. We’re going to destroy the King of Hybern from within. And when all of this is done, I’m going home with Rhys and you’ll be with Elain, and hopefully, we’ll have some damn peace and quiet.”

He’d been her ally ever since.

She grabbed her deep-green cloak from beside the door, hoping it would help her blend in with the trees and forest. Lucien closed the door behind them and they made their way to the stables. The horses already saddled, it didn’t take long for them to depart to meet Mor.

Once they were half a mile away from the house, Lucien pulled his horse to a stop and turned to face Feyre. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on the grounds. If I see anyone coming, I’ll come meet you.”

“As always,” she said. As helpful as Lucien had been, he’d also been just as difficult. He was in a constant bad mood, putting all his energy into making sure Feyre’s real motives stayed hidden. Feyre was actually surprised at how much Tamlin trusted him. But that’s what centuries of friendship would do.

Feyre trotted slowly away, hoping Mor had the sense to stay completely hidden until she got there. Thankfully, her beautiful cousin-in-law was nowhere to be seen when she arrived to their meeting spot.

“I was wondering when you’d deign to make an appearance,” Mor said, stepping out from the trees, twirling her hair around her finger. “I had just started to get bored of counting my dead ends,” she added, looking down at her hair. Her hair looked to be in perfect condition and Feyre very much doubted she had any dead ends.

Feyre hopped off the horse, and turned to tie the reins around the tree next to her. Mor gave her a warm hug when she turned around. “I’ve missed you, Feyre. How are you?”

“Surviving,” Feyre said. “How are you? How’s Rhys?”

Feyre had only seen him once she’d gone to the Spring Court and they had nearly been caught. Even though it killed her, she forbade him from coming close again. It was too dangerous and not worth the risk. They sent notes to each other a few times a week, but out of fear of Tamlin finding out much like Lucien had, she’d tried to keep their communication to an absolute minimum.

“The same. Misses you like crazy.” Feyre gave her a small smile. Pleasantries aside, Mor asked, “We don’t have much time, what’s the latest news? Have you been able to find out where Hybern’s forces moved the Cauldron?” She stepped back into the shadows, even though Feyre figured they had at least another 5 minutes.

“That stupid book is the key to everything, I know it. So, I’m going to ask you to do something,” Feyre said.

“No.” Mor said, immediately guessing where the conversation was headed. “Is that why you insisted on meeting in person? So you could ask me a favor? You thought it would be harder for me to say no in person?”

“I need you to steal it from Rhys.”

Mor gave her a look, “No.”

“I know what I’m asking you to do.”

“I’m not sure you do, Feyre,” Mor said gently, stepping away from the shadows for a moment, her hair gleaming in the sun and arm reaching for Feyre.

Feyre paused and stepped away, taking a moment to turn around and scan the trees and the fields beyond. Tamlin’s estate was just a mile behind her, but it was if she could feel him glaring from the balcony. She’d have to get back before he became suspicious and came looking for her. She was only able to sneak away to see Mor once a month, but she worried the entire time she was gone.

Mor stepped back into the shadows without saying anything else.

“If I ask him, he won’t give it to me.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Feyre?”

Feyre paused again, weighing her words. “I’ve been listening to conversations between Tamlin and a few of the Hybern cronies,” she spat with a look of disgust. “I’m the only one who can wield the power of the book because I was Made. And … I have a theory.”

Mor was becoming slightly frustrated. They didn’t have time to play games, not when one small mistake could cost them their lives. She needed Feyre to come out with it.

“I –” Mor began.

“I need you to trust me, to trust that I know what I’m doing and that I’m working on tracking down the location of the Cauldron. But Mor, I _need_ that book.”

Before Mor could respond, Feyre hopped back on her horse and untied the reins. “Send me a note, the normal way, once you have it. Trust me, okay?” And she was gone.

“Cauldron save me,” Mor murmured to herself once Feyre was out of earshot. She stood there for a minute longer, shaking her head and wondering what Feyre could possibly be getting herself into. “Rhys is going to kill me.”  
  
***

_ Present _

Rhys had spent the better part of an hour sitting in the snow. The darkness pouring out of him had subsided to a small trickle and his heart had stopped hammering loud enough that he could hear the birds chirping in the trees nearby.

He knew he needed to go inside and face Feyre, face their future. Every second he spent away from her was a moment wasted. He was less angry than he had been, but the ache in his chest was only getting worse. He had so much planned for them. They were supposed to have centuries to see the world, explore other continents, rule in peace. She was his goddamn High Lady. And now…he knew the chances of her bearing him children was nearly impossible, of spending years raising them together even less so…but he couldn’t think too much about it. As his anger subsided, he realized just how brave she was. How brave she must have been to make the sacrifice.

He had so many questions for her. _How did she accomplish destroying the Cauldron? How did she know what to do?_ He wanted to throttle her and console her at the same time. _Why hadn’t she come to him? Why hadn’t she told him?_ But, he knew why she didn’t. She’d been afraid that he’d talk her out of it or try and find some other way. And all of that would have taken time - her friends were dying, her people were dying, and she had just wanted it to _end_. He understood, but he wished there had been another way.

He trudged his way back inside, his heart breaking more with each fragile step. She was exactly where he’d left her, sitting at the kitchen table. Without her fae senses, she didn’t hear him approach. He stood in the foyer, just staring at her, wishing there was some way for him to change the past.

When she finally noticed him, she gave him a look of pure understanding. She knew why he was hurt, why he was angry. She was giving him space to sort out his feelings. But at the same time, he longed to touch her, to spend every possible second with her. She would be taken from him far too soon.

“I have a lot of things I wish to say to you, Feyre,” he began. “The first of which is that…I…”

Feyre looked at him, waiting patiently. When he didn’t say anything else, she took a deep breath and began, “I know what this all means, and I thought about it long and hard before I made the sacrifice.” Before Rhys, before she realized he was her mate, she wouldn’t have called giving up her immortality a sacrifice. It would have been a blessing. But he had changed that. Loving him and being loved by him had changed everything.

“And what, exactly, do you think this means?”

“You’re not going to be able to stand by me and watch me die. It’ll kill you. It would kill me, too.”

Rhys remained silent. Not because she was right, but because he was so appalled.

“You, Feyre darling, are an idiot.”

She looked up at him to see him smiling. It was a small, heartbreaking smile that didn’t touch his eyes. But it was a smile nonetheless.

“I would never in a million lifetimes leave you.”

She’d hid from him for days, fearing seeing him, because she hadn’t been able to stop crying. She thought it was out of her system, but Rhys standing in front of her, telling her he was never going to leave her, was too much for her human heart to handle. She covered her eyes with her hands, turning away from him.

He went to her, kneeling down in front of her chair. He reached for her hands, trying to pry them away from her eyes, but she wouldn’t move them.

“I want you to be looking at me when I say what I’m about to say,” he gently said. “Feyre, if I am going to lose you in sixty or seventy or eighty years, then I am going to spend every single second, of every minute, of every hour, and of every day, loving you and cherishing you. And if you don’t want me to, if you want me to leave you, well then, that’s too damn bad.”

The tears slowed and she stared at him in awe. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered.

He wiped a few stray tears from her cheek. “No, Feyre, it is _I_ who doesn’t deserve you.”

And as he pulled her towards him, he couldn’t think about her dying without his heart feeling like it was going to cleave in two. He couldn’t think about the fact that one day, one day far too soon, she would leave him. She’d never give him children, she’d never spread her wings again. She’d never make wolves from water, or spit fire from her hands. She’d never do any of those things. But she would love him. And he would love her. And that was more than most. And it would have to be enough.

***

Mor found Amren holed up in her apartment. With the Cauldron destroyed and Amren still trapped in her body, Mor assumed she’d been sulking. But when she walked in to the third-story apartment, she was confused. Papers covered every surface, discarded jars of blood were strewn about and she was seated at her desk, furiously scribbling.

“What…Amren, what is this?”

Amren didn’t even acknowledge her. She tried a different tactic.

“I assume you’ve heard about Feyre?”

Amren gave an imperceptible nod. “I will not accept it,” she responded flippantly without looking up.

Mor picked up the piece of paper that was close enough to her. It looked like parts of a spell. “What is all this?” Mor asked again.

“Hope,” Amren said, putting down her pen to stare up at Mor. She looked like she hadn’t slept in years. “For Feyre.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry for all the angst. Pleaseeeee leave comments/kudos whatever you want if you enjoyed it :) On to chapter 3!


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